


Hidden Treasures

by Leela



Category: Adam Lambert (Musician), Tommy Ratliff (Musician)
Genre: Black Lace Panties, First Time, M/M, RPS - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-25
Updated: 2012-03-25
Packaged: 2017-11-02 12:01:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,460
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/368768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leela/pseuds/Leela
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Adam thought he knew Tommy, but Tommy still had a few surprises, including those hidden by his clothes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hidden Treasures

**Author's Note:**

  * For [zoodlemouse13](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=zoodlemouse13), [dude_ette](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=dude_ette).



> **Beta** : aislinntlc  
>  **A/N** : So I was on Twitter, chatting with @dude_ette and @zoodlemouse13, and @dude_ette mentioned a story with Tommy in black lace panties. Next thing I knew, I was writing one.

Adam was twitchy. They'd been in one too many cities, done one too many promo events. There wasn't enough liquid in the world to make it possible for him to sing without getting pitchy. If it hadn't been a day off, he might have cancelled the entire day's worth of appearances, and he hated doing that. Passionately. It felt too much like failure.

"Here." 

Without looking up from his phone, Adam held out his hand and closed it around the hot mug. The scent of Throat Coat tea made his nostrils flare and his mouth water. 

He nodded thanks and went back to Twitter, alternately scrolling through his feed and sipping from his mug. Eventually though, the break between songs was long enough that Tommy's quiet playing caught at him. He paused the song and listened. It was one of the Mouthlike pieces, slow and sad, the kind that forced him to pay attention to something outside his own frustration.

The hotel room was like almost every other Adam had stayed in during this tour. A small sitting room and a bedroom separated by a wide archway. Adam was stretched out on the couch, and Tommy was sitting cross-legged on the floor near the fireplace. 

As always, Tommy's jeans had slid down and the waistband was halfway down his ass. Adam smiled and checked to see what kind of briefs Tommy was wearing. He'd never admit it, especially not where Neil could hear him, but Adam liked it when Tommy wore silly patterns, like dinosaurs or pink camo. 

This time, though, Adam had to blink and then squint and then blink again, and he still wasn't sure what he was seeing. Those weren't Tommy's usual briefs. They hung lower on his ass for one. And they were black, which wasn't that unusual, but with an oddly symmetrical pattern of pale creamy white. 

Sitting up, Adam pulled out his earphones and placed his cell phone and mug on the table as quietly as he could manage. 

Lost in the music, Tommy didn't seem to notice. His fingers flew over the strings. His eyes were closed, and he rocked in time to a beat only he could hear. 

Adam slid to the floor, crawled slowly and quietly over to Tommy. He stopped, only inches away, and had to blink again. 

The black was lace. The color he hadn't been able to identify in the spaces between was Tommy's skin, soft and tempting. 

"Oh." The syllable wasn't much more than a breath, but it was enough to still Tommy's fingers.

"What did I..." Tommy's voice trailed off, his confusion evident.

"It's... what you're wearing." Adam waggled a hand at Tommy, unable to explain any better. 

"Umm." Tommy glanced down at himself, wiggling his sock-clad toes. "The usual? Jeans, a t-shirt."

"And lace."

"Yeah, like I said, the usual."

"I've never seen—" Adam hesitated. His thoughts were flying, tumbling over each other, as he tried to remember if he'd ever noticed Tommy wearing anything like that before.

Laying his guitar carefully on the floor, Tommy slid it under the coffee table, away from the fire. He turned to face Adam, his head tilted as he considered him. "Maybe you just needed to pay more attention."

Adam frowned. "I thought you didn't want that kind of attention."

Tommy shrugged. A liquid lift of one shoulder that made the V-neck of his t-shirt gap and revealed a glimpse of black string. 

Seeing it seemed to short-circuit Adam's brain, and all he could say was, "Oh." He reached out to run a fingertip along Tommy's collarbone, stretching the t-shirt. The black string was silk. Obeying a compulsion, he dragged his finger down, hooking it in the point of the V. 

"You," Adam said. "I need to see." 

Another shrug and then Tommy raised his arms. The t-shirt slid up with the movement, displaying black lace and bare stomach. 

"Tommy?"

As if sensing Adam's confusion, Tommy huffed. "You aren't that stupid, Lambert."

Adam shook his head, and the whirlwind of images in his brain settled into place with a series of inaudible clicks. The loneliness he'd been keeping at bay with one-night stands and affection from his friends rose up, and he leaned towards Tommy. 

Their kiss was a brush of lips, a glancing touch of Tommy's tongue against his, but it was enough. Adam crawled forward, pressing Tommy to the floor as he went. When he was straddling Tommy's thighs, he sat back and slid his hands under Tommy's t-shirt. 

The lace was rough compared to Tommy's skin. The combination set Adam's fingertips to tingling, and he shoved at the t-shirt, pushing and pulling until it was over Tommy's head and off. 

Tommy smirked at him and wriggled. The movement caused the lace whatever-the-fuck it was to shift and one of Tommy's nipples, dark pink and erect, peeked through the lace. 

Leaning down, Adam sucked on it, wetting the fabric, tugging the nipple with his teeth. Adam licked lace and skin, nuzzled in, and his hips bucked as want sizzled through him. 

Tommy bent one knee, bracing himself, arched up into Adam's mouth, and groaned, "Fuck yeah."

The movement caused Tommy's leg to rub against Adam's balls, the touch flashing like wildfire through Adam. He moved, lifting off Tommy, popping the button on his jeans open, opening the zip, and yanking the jeans off.

Adam stopped. And stared.

Firelight flickered over Tommy's skin and warmed the pale skin showing through the lace. He was thin. His tattoos stood out in sharp contrast. The outlines of his hipbones were visible, lickable. But Adam's attention, his _need_ , was drawn to Tommy's cock. It was hard, too big to be contained by the scrap of lace that was pretending to be underwear. Everything else would just have to wait.

Settling between Tommy's legs, Adam pushed them further apart and dragged his tongue up over lace and cock. Again and again, pressing it against _that_ spot just below the head, licking over the slit, until Tommy was thrusting upwards, matching Adam's rhythm. Until the lace was damp. Until every stroke of Adam's tongue ended with the salty-sweet-sour taste of precome, and Tommy was writhing, panting, and cursing him. 

Until Adam had to reach down to free his own cock from the confines of what had been his loosest, baggiest, most comfortable pants.

Then Adam pulled the lace underwear down, hooking them beneath Tommy's balls, and slid his mouth over the head of Tommy's cock. He flattened his tongue, moved it up and down the shaft. His cheeks hollowed as he sucked. He bobbed his head up and down, taking Tommy's cock a fraction deeper every time.

And when he had take Tommy's cock all the way in, when he could feel the head at the back of his throat and his nose touched the crisp curls at the base, his own need was almost overwhelming.

He wanted to fuck Tommy, wanted to do all the things that he was sure Tommy wasn't ready for. 

Yet. 

Instead, he slid his mouth up and then sucked his way down again, Up and down, matching the rhythm to the squeezes and jacking on his own cock. Slow at first. Then Tommy's hands were in his hair, and Tommy's hips were shifting restlessly, as if he was trying not to move too much, and Adam was bucking into his own hand. 

Up and down, faster and faster. Sucking and thrusting. Licking and tugging. 

Until Tommy breathed Adam's name, broken and stuttered, almost incoherent, and he finally, _finally_ tugged on Adam's hair, thrust up into Adam's mouth and came in what felt like a thousand tiny pulses that tasted almost exactly as Adam had imagined. And Adam was lost, spilling over his hand and Tommy's leg.

Afterwards, when he could think again, Adam stretched out beside Tommy, and Tommy curled into him. He stroked Tommy's hair, running his hand from the shaved side into the longer side. The idea that Tommy wasn't as straight as he'd thought consumed him. How could he have misunderstood, mistaken Tommy so completely? Not that Adam believed that only gay men cross-dressed. He knew better than that. Although Tommy had always fucked with his gaydar, and Brad had insisted many times that—

Tommy laid a finger over Adam's lips. "Just fucking enjoy it," he said. "Think... hell, talk later."

Taking a deep breath, Adam smiled and kissed Tommy's temple, and did his best to relax, to indulge Tommy and do as he was told. Just this once, he thought, as he hugged Tommy to him.

Later, he'd find out what other secrets Tommy had been hiding in his suitcase. Later, he'd introduce Tommy to some of the secrets in his own.


End file.
